


Coda: Ladies Drink Free

by BarefootGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonding Winchester-style, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 06:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17699369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarefootGirl/pseuds/BarefootGirl
Summary: A quick bonding-over-WTF moment between Claire and Dean, in the aftermath of Claire's brief time as a werewolf...(I found this while cleaning up some folders...can't believe I never posted it!)-- -- -- --





	Coda: Ladies Drink Free

Claire was sitting on the steps, her chin resting on her knee, and Dean was struck in that instant how much she resembled - not Cas, but Jimmy, and how many of Jimmy’s physical mannerisms were still echoed in Cas.

In this instance, at least, that helped.  He knew how to read that particular pensive sulk. “Hey kid.”

“Not a kid.” But her tone was tired, not antagonistic, and he didn’t take offense. 

“According to my mom, we’re always kids.”

“Yeah, well, news flash, you’re not my dad.”

He wasn’t so sure of that any more.   But he just sat down next to her, resting his elbows on his knees, and waited.

“I remember some of it,” she said, finally.  “Not… not everything, not even things.  Just…”

“The feeling of it,” he said, when she trailed off.  “The sensations.  Like your body was incredibly tight and at the same time expanding like whoa.”

“Yeah.”  She turned to look at him, a question in her eyes, and he looked down, then looked away.  But Claire was a hunter, all the way to the bone, and she couldn’t drop shit any more than Sam could.

“Dean.  How did you -“

“How did I know?  Been there, done that, threw away the t-shirt.”

“You were - what?”  He could feel her still staring at him, but turned his gaze on the bland landscape across from them rather than look at her.  Not while he was talking about this, he couldn’t.

“Vampire.”  And god, there was a whole pile of repressed shit he’d never wanted to shovel ever again.  “A bunch of years ago, there was…”  He didn’t want to talk about Sam-without-a-soul.  Ever.  “I got turned.  Sam found a cure.”  He didn’t want to talk about Samuel, either.  Ever.  “But there was a while there where…yeah.”

“How do you…forget?”  It was almost a whisper, as though she was afraid to ask, afraid that she already knew the answer.  

“Things get… vague.  Vaguer, anyway.  Time doesn’t heal shit, Claire, but it does a hell of a job in blunting the edges.  The more time you get from it, the more it feels like… something you read about, or maybe saw in a really bad movie late at night.  Real but not-real, all the same.”

“I remember being Castiel’s vessel like it happened yesterday.”

He swallowed hard, and resisted the urge to pull her in for a hug, knowing that would probably get him stabbed, right now.  “Yeah, that was… that’s… I got nothing.  Angels, man.  They’re-“

“Unforgettable?”  

But the exhaustion had been replaced with a more familiar wry resignation, and he chuckled.  “Yeah, maybe.  Cas cares about you, you know.  He did even back then, he just didn’t know how to show it.”

“He’s still shit at it.”

Dean nodded, although that was probably more to do with his teachers than the student himself.

“And nice attempt at deflection.”  

He gave a half-shrug; he hadn’t actually meant it as one.  

“So, this, the werewolf thing… You think that’ll fade?  Eventually, I mean.”

“So long as you don’t keep poking at it, to keep it sharp.”

He didn’t have to look to know that she was glaring at him. “You think that’s what I do with Castiel?”

He didn’t answer that: she was a smart kid, she already knew the answer.

“Yeah, okay.  So.  Repress and repeal?”

“Hunter’s Third rule: don’t linger on the shit that didn’t kill you, ‘cause something new’s about to step up to the plate.”

“That is totally not a rule.”

“Should be.”

“We need a wiki.”

“Just remember to set it private, or some idiot’s going to turn it into a LARP.”

He felt the briefest touch of something against his shoulder, and risked a sideways glance to see her head tilting toward him.  Not resting on him, not exactly, but a definite lean toward.

He threw up a quick prayer to Chuck that he was doing the right thing, and draped an arm over her shoulders, not pulling her in, but just resting there. Something for them both to focus on, rather than the past.


End file.
